


Yellow-Eyed Boy

by Ren_Kyun



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: AU, Akashi-centric, Bokushi and Oreshi, Character Study, Gen, Kind of Akakuro, Mental Illness, Minor Character Death, Open Ending, Teiko, a bit OOC, but not really, did, multiple personality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ren_Kyun/pseuds/Ren_Kyun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither owned it, but instead of mindlessly fighting, they decided to share it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow-Eyed Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Slight AU centered around Akashi Seijuurou. It was actually kind of a character study uuh

10.

Seijuurou was ten when his father first looked him in the eyes. The large man knelt down in front of his only son and straighten his ashen tie. The material slid up, uncomfortably shoved against the young boy’s pale neck. His crimson eyes flickered down in silence, and he thought about saying something. But he didn’t, instead deciding to squirm away from his father’s firm grasp. He swallowed hard as he looked back into the man’s dark orbs.

At first, his father raised an eyebrow at Seijuurou’s submissiveness. But as he looked into his downward eyes, he sighed and dropped his arms. Standing up, the elder Akashi simply waved his hand for his hired help and exited the large, ornate room. Maids filled in his position. Seijuurou finally breathed.

His hands instinctively moved to the horrid tie and loosened it ever so slightly.

The maids fussed around the boy’s room, finding things to use as finishing touches on their subject. Seijuurou stood in place, watching with a placid expression. He was messed with, his unruly hair gelled and tamed. His nails were sharpened down short, the file brushing roughly against his skin. A large bouquet was placed into his fresh hands after they were done.

He stared down at the flowers, nose wrinkling subtly. His stinging fingertips brushed against the plastic covering. He eyed the ebony bow with thought.

“Are you ready?” Someone asked him.

Seijuurou slowly lifted his head at the young maid in front of him. She frowned and reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair back into the red mess. The boy blinked, unmoving.

“Are you ready?” She asked once again. She was patient.

He was ready, but he still felt as if he shouldn’t move. As if it would upset some sort of fragile balance. So, he just dropped his gaze and held out the bouquet of flowers to the lady in front of him.

She took the flowers, as slowly as Seijuurou was acting. “I’ll carry these for you.” She stated matter-of-factly. Then, she tucked them carelessly in one of her arms and held out the other. Her palm opened to the boy. “Are you ready?” The boy observed the soft hand with contempt, eyes hard. The young maid waited.

“No.” He said emotionlessly and finally lifted his hand to put it in her’s. She quietly closed her fingers around the young boy’s. Seijuurou let his hand be squeezed, but he did not return the gesture.

Together, the two walked out of his room. The trek past the long, empty halls was overwhelmingly tense. The maid would calmly look down at the content boy, but then look ahead, not bothering to fill in the silence. Seijuurou liked her.

The duo finally arrived at the enormous entryway, stopping in front of the door. The young maid released the boy’s hand and knelt down in front of him. Seijuurou watched her, comparing her thin presence with that of his intimidating father’s. He scoffed internally.

The young maid handed the bouquet back to the boy’s arms. She then looked him up and down, inspecting for anymore unkept oversights. A sigh escaped as her fingers ran over the same troublesome strand of hair from before. But she left it be, looking away while standing. She pushed the front door open, leading Seijuurou out. He gripped the flowers, eyes squinting in the ironic sunlight.

A few petals fell onto the white marble, blending into the floor like snow from a rotten tree.

Seijuurou’s father was waiting for him, standing tall beside the inky car. He eyed his son with a blank face. Seijuurou returned the gaze, neck craning as he got closer and closer. When he was in front of the man again, he stiffened and paused. The young maid lingered a few feet away, ready to turn back into the manor.

The elder Akashi broke the tension by nodding curtly. “Are you ready?” He asked, like a police officer interrogating an immature criminal. The question hung the the air as Seijuurou began taking an unusual interest in his expensive, polished shoes. He stay strong in his disposition, causing both his father and maid to breathe out an air of irritation.

Seijuurou glanced at the shiny film covering the bouquet. He watched the maid in the warped reflection swiftly turn and leave, another body taking her place. It was one after another, like a well oiled machine.

The new person walked past the young boy and his father to open the coal-colored car door. A pungent smell of overbearing incense was released. Seijuurou didn’t want to go in there.

But he did, clumsily climbing into the vehicle on his father’s watch. The man continued his silence, observing his own blood carefully before shaking his head and walking in direction toward another fancy car. The new chauffeur from before closed the door, blasting the last of the fresh air into Seijuurou’s face. He sniffed the scent of familiarity before an air of musk took over.

The chauffeur climbed into the driver’s seat, fixing the rear-view mirror. Seijuurou waited patiently, staring out of the tinted windows.

“It’s tough.”

The car began to rumble, the engine roaring to life. At that time, Seijuurou finally placed down the bouquet of flowers on the empty seat next to him.

“You’re going to hear a lot of it. It’ll get annoying.”

Seijuurou quietly picked at his black tie complacently.

“Is that alright?”

He looked to the front. He saw two worrisome eyes in the glass, eyebrows turned upward. His gaze shifted from the mirror to the road, over and over, just waiting. Seijuurou could see his dark gloves taut on the steering wheel.

“Yes.”

_He felt as if his response wasn’t his._

With a shaky nod, the chauffeur looked away from the mirror and did not look back. He was more talkative than the maid from before. Seijuurou didn’t particularly mind, but he’d rather ride in comfortable silence rather than in forced conversations. The destination wasn’t too far either, so there was no point in starting a discussion with the man.

“You know,” the chauffeur began again, though staring firmly on the road ahead, “I’ve never seen such unique eyes.”

The statement came out of no where. Seijuurou frowned, face more awake now. He looked to the man with a questionable expression.

“Yep. You have a very interesting color to one of them,” he went on. “It kind of looks gold, but then again, the mirror’s rays are shining on it. Must be a little _light trick_ , right?”

“… Gold? What do you mean?”

He received no answer.

 

* * *

 

.

.

(As familiar ladies cried out in fabricated sobs, Seijuurou watched a grasshopper jump right into a pond. The creature squirmed and struggled for a bit before giving up and drowning, completely still. He felt a tiny smile tug at his lips, but it was quickly replaced as Seijuurou regained himself.

He looked away from the deceased, both on the smaller and larger scale, and focused on his reflection.

‘It’s nice to meet you,’ the lips moved silently. Seijuurou quirked his head with wide eyes, finally realizing what the annoying chauffeur was talking about.

Seijuurou just gave the reflection a strained nod, mouthing a greeting back.)

.

.

 

* * *

 

11.

“Akashi-kun? What are you doing all alone again?”

Tiny fingers gripped the edge of the book with irritation, but he still looked up at his teacher’s concerned face. It was kind of disgusting how fake it was. But of course, Seijuurou was a hypocrite, putting on his façade of smiling brightly as his teacher pursed her lips. His knees, previously against his chest, went slack, straightening to the point where the back of his knees rubbed against the floor.

“I’m sorry, Sensei, but I’ve just gotten to a particularly fascinating part of my book. I’d rather not stop now.” He felt déjà vu with the excuse.

So did his teacher, furrowing her eyebrows, “You’ve been staying inside for the last few days.” Her mouth shakily upturned. “Don’t you want to play outside with all your friends?”

“Not really.” His reply was said a little too sudden with a little too much scorn.

His teacher physically winced. She took a tiny, awkward step back, clearly uncomfortable talking to the little fifth year. With a forced laugh and eyes darting, she concluded, “I see. Well, I hope you enjoy your book.” Her mouth was opening and closing, as if she wanted to say more. But she decided to keep it shut, hurriedly walking out of the classroom.

Seijuurou’s gaze was dark, lingering on the closing door. “Goodbye Sensei.” He muttered to himself. He sighed in exasperation, closing his book. He didn’t bother to save the page having already read the story multiple times.

He looked out the window, head leaning against the wall. He felt the textured book cover brush against his hand. Two girls ran past his view, both of them giddily whispering in each other’s ear, back and forth. His lids began blinking, heavier and heavier. A tiny yawn escaped, and he was about to close his eyes. But he didn’t.

A dark cloud passed over the school, blasting contrast onto the reflective glass. Seijuurou stared at his reflection with a sullen face. His hand reached up, brushing against the skin below his radiant eye.

“There’s no _light for this trick_. Is there?”

 

* * *

 

 

.

.

(“No, there isn’t.”

“I’m not alone.”

“You’re never alone.”)

.

.

 

* * *

 

12.

Seijuurou sat, arms crossed. He was half paying attention to the board and boy in front of him. He absentmindedly placed his rook three spaces to the left, successfully trapping the opponent’s king in a pincher move. “Checkmate,” came the drone victory statement.

“Tch.” The player in front of him stiffened, pushing up on his black eyeglasses. His fingers, which were oddly bandaged, curled into a fist, obviously showing his diminishing pride and disappointment in himself. With a twisted frown, he murmured, “Sagittarius was ranked first today, of course the odds were against me. I also couldn’t secure my lucky item, so I was bound to lose.”

“Oh, I see.” Seijuurou’s eyes drifted away from his companion, inciting bland, mechanical responses. “What was it today?”

The boy’s expression soured even further. “A dog. Husky to be specific.”

“That’s too bad.”

“It is.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. Green locks floated out of place, obscuring his view of the ever aloof Seijuurou. “Though, the results would’ve been the same. As I said, your sign is number one currently.”

Seijuurou stifled a yawn and replied with a low hum. His cheek rested against his enclosed fist. He was fairly bored with both the disappointing shogi game his opponent had given him today and the long excuse of why his performance was so poor. It was like his mind was wired into the Oha Asa predictions, which just couldn’t be healthy.

His green-haired companion observed Seijuurou’s detached disposition with some thought, though he didn’t initiate any conversation. Instead he just sighed, cleaning up the pieces off the board. He felt a chill run down his skin as he grabbed Seijuurou’s king.

“Midorima.”

His eyes darted up toward the voice, low and different. His teeth clicked silently, watching as a new attitude washed over the redhead. “Akashi?” He answered. Though, it felt as if it wasn’t the same prestigious mind he had played a shogi game against a few minutes ago. He couldn’t even explain it, the phenomenon too strange to describe.

With cold, blood-colored orbs, Seijuurou finally looked at Midorima directly, leaning forward slightly in his seat. His fingers intertwined with each other, folding gently onto the desk. “Your father’s a doctor, correct?”

“Correct.” Midorima affirmed gingerly. He waited and waited, feeling as if he were walking on eggshells. A single word could break the weak barriers that were in front of both of them. His developing Adam’s apple bobbed, still waiting and waiting.

But the unstable boy just let a whisky breath out in response, nodding ever so slightly. His eyes closed for a bit, though Midorima’s stayed firmly in contact, watching to see what would happen next. “Okay.” A lull. “I was just… wondering.”

And the heavy atmosphere lifted instantaneously.

“I can clean up,” Seijuurou slowly began picking up the pieces, one by one in his hands, “you can go to your class, Midorima. Lunch is almost over.”

The green-haired boy felt a miniscule conflict. His face turned grim, and he tried, “Are you sure?” But the passive-aggressive look that passed on Seijuurou’s face convinced him otherwise. His hands slowly hovered near the bridge of his nose, adjusting his frames into place. “I see. Well, I suppose I’ll take my leave then.”

“Yes, you wouldn’t want to be late.”

Midorima nodded. He stood, eyes firmly affixed on the redhead. With heavy steps, he began his trek to the door. But he stopped midway, turning his torso to say one last thing, “You’re attending basketball tryouts today, right?”

Seijuurou paused with his fingers over the last gold general. He met the green-eyed gaze with a strange vigor. “Of course. Will you?”

A silent moment passed before the tapping of feet continued, carrying Midorima further and further away. “I’ll be there.” He opened the door quietly and shuffled out, not bothering to look back again. The door closed harder than intended, echoing around the nearly vacant room with only two other occupants left.

The sharp click of the board followed the violent door slam, as it was folded roughly. Seijuurou let a ghost of a smile out before letting it grow into an unrefined smirk. Seijuurou frowned, cautious of the other’s actions. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll do my best as well.”

And he, it, they packed the game up and left the room as the first bell rang.

“I’ll do my best.”

 

* * *

  
.

.

(He pretended that he was in control. That he was only one. But it was hard. Until one day, his hand met with his on the slick mirror. He smirked, which caused Seijuurou to copy. “Let’s make a deal.” He said, eyes glistening.

Neither owned it, but instead of mindlessly fighting, they agreed to share it.)

.

.

 

* * *

 

 

13.

It wasn’t unusual for Kuroko to hear his captain mutter to himself occasionally. Though the redhead’s perception skills were as acute as ever, he still managed to overlook the team phantom from time to time. With a stretched mouth and downward gaze, Seijuurou sat on the bench in the locker room, hands folded tightly.

Kuroko stood at behind him, facing away because it wasn’t any of his business. He just continued changing, peeling his saturated, sticky shirt off his body. A crisp sigh escaped, but it was no problem due to both Seijuurou’s deep concentration and his lacking presence.

But it was still uncomfortable, hearing the occasional loony phrase drip from Seijuurou’s lips, “I don’t want to hear any of that,” or, “that 'absolute’ catchphrase is getting quite old.” He continued grumbling to no one in particular, his eyes flashing. Kuroko keep his head straight, but he did speed up as much as possible. Watching people, especially someone he revered such as Seijuurou, blindly argue with himself was a little awkward to say the least.

He swiftly put on his shirt and blazer, fumbling with the buttons. A tiny frown appeared on his face as a frustratingly stubborn one refused to close properly. Kuroko grunted as he fought with it, irritation taking over. His elbow tapped the locker door, swinging it closed with a loud _bang!_

Kuroko froze as Seijuurou flinched, reacting fast toward the sound. His body turned, facing the lockers and Kuroko. They’re contrasted eyes met, and the smaller boy’s head tilted slightly. The sunlight poured in through the small window, hitting Seijuuou with light. Red mixed with the yellowish tint, creating a foreign look. But it was just a _trick of the light._

“Ah.” Kuroko blinked. “I’m sorry Akashi-san.”

A clear look had spread across the captain’s face, making it quite obvious that he was caught off guard. Despite that, his voice was strong and steady, “Kuroko. I didn’t see- notice you there.” And within an instant, red eyes dulled into a odd, disconnected gaze.

A mysterious string of irritation wormed its way into Kuroko’s skin, but it was quelled as the smaller male controlled himself. Just as Seijuurou had told him to. “I didn’t wish to interrupt… you.”

“I see.” The redhead didn’t show any signs of being uncomfortable. Kuroko on the other hand was shifting anxiously from one foot to the other. He didn’t want to upset the unstable boy. Yet, he still felt that inward annoyance, and it confused him greatly.

Silence ensued, but the atmosphere stayed light and dissonant. Kuroko simply nodded at the other, and was happily met with a similar gesture in response. He turned back to his locker and put his hand up to the cool surface, wracking his mind to make sure he didn’t need anything else from it.

Unlike the other though, Seijuurou continued facing Kuroko. He watched him with his calculating eyes. Weak, yet useful. A nuisance and a-

And a-

Seijuurou mentally scoffed. Why did if feel so wrong to call his teammate a friend? Of course, with all the modern children shows and movies, 'friend’ seemed to become a cheap ploy. A life lesson for six year olds. A myth that you’re not alone.

“Kuroko, may I ask you something.” Seijuurou’s stare was unrelenting as the question sounded more like a statement. Though, it basically was since he knew Kuroko never refused him. No one ever refused him.

Disturbed, distracted, but also still strangely upset, the cerulean-haired boy finally hooked his last button. He felt a little better, responding smoothly, “Yes, Akashi-kun?”

The words hung on Seijuurou’s mouth, ready to be asked. What’s a friend? Are you a friend? Is that the correct term? Is this childish? Why do you exist? What are you? And he contemplated this for a few seconds.

“You’re very interesting.”

“That…. is not a question, Akashi-kun.” Kuroko frowned.

Seijuurou simply shrugged.

 

* * *

 

 

.

.

(And it was on a rainy day that Murasakibara Atsushi challenged his captain to a fateful game. It was the same day the two with blue hair were absent from the gym, having a conflict outside.

Seijuurou accepted the fray, a nerve incited from the taunting and belittling the giant middle schooler had resorted to. _Weak?_ Seijuurou would show him what _weak_ was truly like. No one defied him. No one-

But he paused. Before the match even started, he faltered. It wasn’t from intimidation nor fear, but from his common sense.

Calm down.

He humiliated me-

Come back to your senses.

-he down played me in front of everyone-

Don’t lose your head.

-Atsushi must repent!

Seijuurou put his arms to his sides, stiff, and breathed out heavily. His previous glare had been reduced to a look of pure apathy. The team manager with pretty pink locks watched mouth agape. The attractive blond ball of smiles had his eyes widened to the size of saucers. Midorima grimaced, unsure what to make of this.

The redhead ignored all the vacant looks and walked to the court. Murasakibara, too far away to catch the moment, or perhaps he just didn’t care, was lazily stretching. His purple eyes were dark, staring down at his captain.

And Seijuurou calmly started the match. Murasakibara, unsurprisingly, grabbed the ball in the tip off. He almost grinned, twisted and happy overpowering the boy who was seemingly always perfect. But he underestimated the boy.

Because he _is_ always perfect.

“Murasakibara.”

As the giant passed the emperor, a quick jab sent the basketball flying out off the dribble and over where it became out of bounds. Murasakibara’s face was that of horrid shock. But _he was still on his feet_ , body slower to react. His run began to falter into a sluggish jog before coming down to a walk. And finally a halt.

Seijuurou slowly looked up at his friend, a non-threatening smile gracing his features. Nonetheless, it terrified everyone watching, sending chills throughout their very bones. The usually smiley blond actually shivered unconsciously.

“Do not defy me.”

The game ended 5 - 0, Seijuurou.)

.

.

 

* * *

 

14.

Things fell apart, but Seijuurou was always there to fix it whenever it got too messy. Aomine and Murasakibara were sloth-like at best and downright irritating at worst. The two came to practice despite their protests, but rarely joined. The bright-eyed Kise and caring, yet not-so-caring Midorima would chastise the purple giant into participating. On the other side both a worried Kuroko and Momoi would try their best to motivate their dreary friend.

Seijuurou knew that it was close to impossible. Though he can force the two to come, he couldn’t revive the fire that used to be in their eyes, an inferno for Aomine and a spark for Murasakibara. He silently apologized.

“Akashi-kun.”

Seijuurou turned to the small voice, clipboard in hand. He furrowed his eyebrows as he was met with the sunken head of the phantom sixth man. “Kuroko?”

The smaller male awkwardly shifted and twiddled his fingers. His eyes were downcast and filled with anxiety. It reminded the redhead if their first meeting, when Kuroko used to be so unsure about himself. _But now_ , Seijuurou mused, _he must be unsure about other circumstances._

He was, as always, correct as Kuroko muttered a low, “I’m… concerned. About Aomine-kun and Murasakibara-kun.”

“As am I.” The captain leaned against the wall behind him and began playing with the clipboard. “I don’t want them to quit, but at the same time, forcing them into doing something they really find no enjoyment out of also seems wrong.”

Kuroko nodded and finally looked up to meet the other’s eyes. “I want to see Aomine’s grin again. I want him to have fun.” Kuroko’s face scrunched in an odd way as he held up his enclosed fist. “I want to pass to him again.” His fingers were shut tightly, but they loosened easily as the blue-eyed boy let out a long sigh.

“I see.” Seijuurou observed carefully, knowing of the rejected fist bump. A small, minuscule thing to fret over, yet he understood the importance of it.

“Can Akashi-kun make that happen?” Kuroko blurted out. Just as the words left, he relied what he had just said and shyly covered his mouth. “I’m sorry,” came the muffled apology, “I know Akashi-kun isn’t a miracle worker. That was asking too much of you.”

Seijuurou almost said he would do it. He would work on those two, the best he possibly could. He would put all his effort in bringing back the old friends that they had made. But he held him back.

Don’t be unrealistic.

And Seijuurou understood.

With a sullen frown and an apologetic look, the captain said to his subordinate, “I wish I could, but you’re correct. That is asking a bit too much.” The phrase 'I’m sorry’ being left in the dust.

 

* * *

 

 

.

.

(The buzzer hit zero, ringing around the court.

The orange-haired boy cried, but with a defeated smile.

Kuroko smiled back, also on the verge of tears.

On the same court, the cerulean-haired male had helped Teiko dominate Meiko.

And the two childhood friends shook hands and laughed.

Like the good old days.)

.

.

 

* * *

 

 

15.

He was in Kyoto, away from the nuisance of his old middle school team. Yet, he unconsciously began constructing a team that fit with the his friend’s image. Using the three uncrowned kings and a fifth ghostly member, Rakuzan felt a little more like home.

They had agreed upon graduation that they would all go separate ways. Their parting was bittersweet with a touch of spice in the form of a friendly competition. They would all be competing against each other.

Kise was a sobbing mess, hugging anyone and everyone he could fling himself onto. He whined about being left alone, and he tried to convince Kuroko to join him to Kaijo High. “Please die,” was the smaller’s deadpanned response. Kise wailed.

Midorima was somewhat indifferent towards the development. Though he did express interest in having more chances to challenge Seijuurou and was most definitely not upset that they all were choosing different schools. He was sure to stress that last part, adjusting his glasses frantically.

Murasakibara didn’t even listen to the agreement, only putting in the school he would be attending. He yawned, but Seijuurou didn’t miss the slight peak of his eyes to look around the circle of his teammates.

Kuroko was conflicted on what he should’ve felt. He almost wanted to follow Momoi’s example and join the high school Aomine was attending. Surprisingly, she dissuaded him, saying that Seirin was a much better fit for Kuroko. It was quite odd considering that she had a major crush on the invisible male.

Seijuurou took Aomine aside to talk with him. The blue-haired male’s attitude was a rotten as ever, testing the redhead’s patience to new heights. “Consider us your challenge, Aomine. We were getting much too strong together, so let us hone our skills individually for now. When a stronger opponent arrives in the future is when we’ll become a team again.”

“Tch.” Aomine gritted his teeth. “Don’t give me the whole 'joining together later better then ever’ spiel. We were always meant to fight for the place at the top,” with one last glare, Aomine spat, “and I’ll be taking it.”

Seijuurou just nodded, an empty, exasperated look forming on his face. “Oh, that’s nice.” And he walked away, returning to the others. He could feel the downward spiral in Aomine’s proclamation, though the volume of it would suggest otherwise.

The redhead had come back to the circle to say his last goodbyes. He shook hands with each of his friends, making sure to block Kise’s jump hug attack with a fist. The blond began whining, “Akashicchi is awful! Awful!” And Seijuurou just rolled his eyes and ignored as his hand grasped bandaged ones.

“Midorima.”

The taller boy visibly stiffened at the quiet, edging tone.

“Where’s your father’s clinic?”

 

* * *

 

 

.

.

(It was interesting to finally connect a name to it, though it wasn’t why he had came.

“Midorima-sensei.” He wasn’t even sure who had control, maybe they both did as it peaked their curiosity. “Which one do you think is the real me?”

The green-haired doctor frowned. “Akashi-san, I’m not really a psychologist, nor do I specialize in neuroscience. I cannot recall if this is exactly correct, but the other you inside of your mind is still you. You’re both considered Akashi Seijuurou.”

That was nice and all, but that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Thank you, Midorima-sensei.” Seijuurou stood, pushing himself off the check-up table. He bowed politely, reciting his manners, “I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

The doctor nodded in reply, scribbling down on a little notepad. “Take care, Akashi-san.” With a clean rip, he handed it to his patient.

Akashi bowed once again before exiting the office. He smiled and frowned as he read the paper. Age: 15, Gender: Male, Occupation: Rakuzan High School Student, Diagnosis: DID.

 _When did it all start_ , he wondered, though he had a fairly good guess. The other just shrugged, still smiling an easy-going grin.

As he left the clinic, he laughed at him a little. It was all so mind-boggling, yet it felt completely normal. He passed window after window, staring at the other, the only time they truly felt separated. The reflection was staring at him, his pleasant expression never leaving.

So Seijuurou decided to try it, mimicking the smirk encased onto the other’s face. It felt natural and wrong, all at once. But he continued staring, watching the reflection with contempt as he imagined it belonging to him and solely him.

He got lost in thought, his walk coming to a complete standstill in front of a bookstore window. He must’ve looked fairly insane, staring into his mirror image smirking like a madman, or maybe a little narcissistic. But he couldn’t help it.

“Are you okay,” Sejuurou jumped slightly, hearing the soft voice right behind him. The question was for him, he could feel it. Plus, the voice was fairly familiar. “Akashi-kun?”

The redhead turned suddenly and saw the head of light blue locks and emotionless, sky-colored eyes. Or at least they were usually emotionless.

“Akashi-kun…..” Kuroko’s face held an incomprehensible expression. His arm was slowly jerked back, a bag of books swaying with it. Seijuurou opened his mouth to ask him if _he_ was okay, but the next sentence ceased any words about to leave his lips, “ _Why are one of your eyes yellow?_ ”)

.

.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm drowning in school, this started as a character study and actually turned into a great stress reliever. Yes I know, I have other stories to update, but life is hard. End is rushed as usually//groans


End file.
